


The Medium

by nukacherries



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Assassins/Templars, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst and Humor, Conspiracy Theories, Cults, F/M, Ghost Hunters, Ghosts, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Marijuana, Mediums, Missing Persons, Now that we have those AU tags out of the way:, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pieces of Eden, Poltergeists, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Spirits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 04:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15235221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nukacherries/pseuds/nukacherries
Summary: Davenport, Massachusetts. A small lakeside college town with a tight knit student-body community where no one ever leaves until graduation.That is, until second year college student Connor Kenway disappears for sixteen months and returns with the ability to see ghosts.=======Or, a story about an inexperienced medium dealing with problems every college student faces, with some of them...being on the paranormal side of things.





	The Medium

**Author's Note:**

> Think of this as an homage to the Ghost Whisperer and Stranger Things, but with a twist. I’ve been having a lot of fun planning for this fic and I am excited to share the rest with y’all. 
> 
> Shout out to @ratonnhhaketon for being my Connor-reader! Thanks Liz!
> 
> Shout out to the write of the way chat for the hype. Thanks y'all!
> 
> I don't own Assassin's Creed. Enjoy!

The local businesses affiliated with the campus were still active, bright early morning sun lighting up the clear gray sky. Snow had steadily risen from two inches to four, mostly fluff than ice.  

For the first time in sixteen months, Connor Kenway stepped onto campus of Eden University.

It only being January 11th, five whole days before the Spring semester started, it felt odd walking on campus during the December break. It was practically abandoned, with not many students present aside the ones for the mini winter semesters.

Connor walked through the campus, dressed in his winter gear.

“Connor?” a woman’s voice asked.

At the sound of his name, Connor turned around to see a familiar face.

Layla Hassan looked the same, save for the new hairstyle: her long hair was pulled up to a tight ponytail rather than it being loose. She wore a teal wool scarf around her neck, matching gloves accentuating with a matching hat. Her dark brown leather jacket had the ribbed cuffs of a white hoodie poking out from underneath the sleeves. She wore her usual cargo pants, except her hiking boots were now replaced with winter boots.

She looked the same. Her winter clothes haven’t changed. Neither had her smile.

“Oh my god. Connor!” she exclaimed, putting down a printer paper cardboard box she was carrying.

Physically, Layla was noticeably shorter next to Connor, but the height difference didn’t stop her from pulling him down into a tight hug.

It had been a while since Connor was embraced, but the warm contact was welcoming. Not at all what he expected after coming back to town after sixteen months of radio silence.

“Hi!” she laughed in disbelief as she let go of him.

“Hey,” Connor smiled.

“You look great!”

“As do you.”

“I have---my God, I have so many questions. Like, what are you doing here?!” she exclaimed. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“I’m just passing through campus.”

“We have so much catching up to do. Do you want to get some coffee? On me?”

“I don’t know if I should…”

“Please, it’s my treat!” Layla said. “It will only take about an hour, tops. It’ll help warm you up in this weather.”

Connor felt a colder, more inhuman breeze pass over him, colder than the snowy breeze that came with the season. He felt eyes on his back, at his side. Everywhere.

Shit.

But he kept calm. Remembered what his grandfather had taught him. Remembered that ghosts could see him but not hurt him. He hadn’t done anything to piss them off. He hadn’t hurt any of them while they were alive. That most of them were harmless.

He was fine. A little scared, but fine.

“Sure,” he said. “Why the hell not?”

* * *

Connor remembered the old coffee shop next to the campus, in the market area of the small town of 9,000. The shop was deemed a historic location by the student body. Then again, with a small town that the name and location were dated to the 1700s, everything including the fire hydrant on the street corner was considered historical.

The Hamilton Avenue coffee shop was a popular location, a local business ran by an owner that rarely showed his face.

After placing their orders at the counter, Layla led Connor to a window-side booth. She carefully removed her knitted gloves to reveal a golden ring with a respectable sized teal stone in the middle on her left ring finger.

“You’re engaged?” Connor asked, a bit surprised.

“Yeah,” Layla smiled. “Desmond proposed last Halloween. It’s still pretty fresh.”

At the sound of Desmond's name, Connor's thoughts were delightfully confirmed. He always had a feeling they were going to last.

“Congratulations,” he said with a warm smile.

“Thanks,” Layla grinned. “Hard to believe that the high school sweethearts from Davenport HS made it, huh?”

“I never once doubted it; I always had a feeling you two were going to last. When’s the wedding?”

“We don’t know yet,” Layla huffed out a small laugh. “Everything has been so hectic…We haven’t had enough time to plan it. It might be in Boston, which is not so romantic, but as pretty as the lake is, it’s associated with too many drunk nights here.”

“Won’t that just add some charm?” Connor asked, being present for a handful of those nights.

“Fair point. So, enough about me. Are you back for the weekend?”

“I’m back for the school year.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic!” Layla’s expression brightened.

Connor was inwardly relieved that Desmond wasn’t present at the moment. He wasn’t sure if he could face his best friend after sixteen months of no communication.

Best friend.

Connor wasn’t sure if he even counted to Desmond as that anymore.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where’s Desmond?” he asked casually.

“Desmond is working right now. He’s been getting the day shifts lately at the bar. Poor Dez finally gets to sleep. Not that he sleeps much in the first place. Not like any of us have been sleeping in general.”

And Connor did notice. The bags under her eyes, the fact that she ordered triple espresso in her cup of coffee at the counter.

“What happened?” Connor asked.

“You haven’t heard?” Layla asked. She glanced at the box next to her. “God, there is no easy way to say this….”

“Is someone hurt?”

“No, nothing like that. Well, I don’t know. None of us do. Clay...has gone missing. It’ll be three weeks this Saturday.”

Connor remained silent, absorbing in the information. His stomach sank at the news, a dreaded feeling passing over him.

Clay Kazcmarek was the step-son of Bill Miles, Desmond's father. Connor, being the same age as Desmond, had known the brothers since late elementary school and while they weren't blood related, they were brothers. Best friends, a brotherly bond as tight as Malik and Kadar's.  Only two years apart, but they always had each other's back.

And now, Clay was missing.

“What?” he finally asked. “How?”

Layla braced herself, taking a drink from her cup. “So, on the 21st of December of, well, last year, we were having a get together party at the lake. We were celebrating that Clay graduated. Class of 2012, you know? End of the world party, but we all somehow made it, that type of thing. It was a bonfire type of night. We were all pretty tipsy at that point and around seven, Clay excused himself to get a new lighter from his car, and he goes into the woods. And never comes back. Police did a whole sweep of the woods and found nothing.”

“That’s...that’s awful.”

“Desmond and I spent all weekend putting up posters around town. Davenport PD are on it, so are my uncle and aunt, but...all we have left is hope,” Layla said.

“I don’t know what to say, Layla. I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

“Growing up in Brooklyn, you’d hear about how the countryside has wolves and all. And we did hear wolves that night, but...they were so far. Dez hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep since then.”

“I truly hope they find Clay, safe and sound,” Connor said.

“Thank you. Same here. And I’ll be honest with you, Connor; it’s great seeing you. But I have so many questions. You left town without warning anybody and then you come back without warning either. You haven’t answered any messages, any phone calls, not even an email. I thought you were dead.”

Connor flinched.

“I am so sorry for disappearing like that,” he said.

He knew he was going to be bombarded with all types of questions. Where did he go? Why did he leave? Why is he here now? What happened? Who knew? Who didn't?

And he knew he wasn't going to be able to answer any of them. Not yet at least.

“Connor...what happened?” Layla asked. “We were worried sick. All of us. Dez, Mal, Altair, Clay, Rebecca. We sent out a search party for you. The professors asked for you all the time.”

“Again, I am so sorry.”

“What’s so bad that you couldn’t come to us about it?” Layla asked.

“I’m sorry, Layla, but I can’t tell you now,” Connor said.

Rather than protesting, Layla sighed and nodded. “I figured. But you know what? It’s the new year and I’m willing to let bygones be bygones for the sake of moving on. It’s great seeing you, but please...don’t be a stranger. I know you’re a private person, and that’s fine. Nothing wrong with that, but...I’m gonna need answers one day.”

“And when I’m ready, I’ll gladly tell you everything.”

“But enough about that,” Layla said. “Are you doing okay?”

Connor tried not to think of the dead patron staring down at him from across the coffee shop, the ghost dressed in clothing from the past century. Every location across town was a historic spot, so every place in town was bound to be haunted by at least one spirit. He was staring Connor down, and the medium shuddered.

“Are you okay? We can move away from the window if you want,” Layla suggested.

“It’s fine. I just felt a chill.”

Despite the anxiety coursing through his veins at the spirit staring him down, he drank from his cup, averting himself from choking.

“But to answer your question...Eh,” he said noncommittally. “I could be better." 

* * *

 

The atmosphere changed as the subject did, and Connor drank from his coffee as he listened to Layla catch him up on what major events had happened in the past sixteen months while he was gone.

Layla didn't press for more details into his disappearance. And Connor tried to act natural at the ghosts casually milling around the cafe.

It turns out, some things had changed.

Layla switched her major and minor from computer science and archeology to archeology and computer science, in that respective order. Desmond was still a history major, as was Altair, and Malik was a criminal justice major still. Shaun graduated the May of 2012, a few months after Connor’s disappearance and was now a graduate student and working at the American Revolutionary museum in Downtown Davenport.

“All Shaun does is keep shit-talking Colonial America and always has something to make fun of,” Layla said, halfway through her coffee. The espresso had gotten her slightly more awake, mood noticeably brighter. “And you know what his job is?”

“What is it?” Connor asked.

“A _tour guide,_ ” Layla laughed. And even Connor had to laugh too. The thought of a British tour guide at the American Revolution and Colonial Era museum criticizing everything and everyone from history was too funny.

Altair and Malik _finally_ got together after years and years of build up and mixed signals. Everyone, but them of course, could see it. The announcement was casual, with a farewell hug interchanged with a farewell kiss before Malik departed for his hometown for Christmas break and a casual “Oh, haven’t you heard?” to everyone’s perplexed reactions.

After being exposed as an embezzler by investigative journalist student Aveline de Grandpre herself, Charles Lee got fired and was no longer faculty at Eden University.

Arno returned to Eden permanently after being an exchange student for a year. There were still no sports teams aside basketball, the intramural lacrosse team still kicked ass. The petition to play hockey when the lake froze over was still rejected, but that didn’t stop students from doing it.

“Have there been any leads?” Connor asked.  

“Not much to go on,” Layla said. “Police are keeping a tight lid on it, but from what Bayek has told me, it’s not looking good.”

“Damn.”

“Dez and I were thinking of distributing some posters over in Boston on the off chance that Clay is there. Granted, Eden pride has me saying that anyone at Boston U is dead to me, but…” Layla hoisted the box onto her hip. “We're running out of options. Eden’s print shop made a fortune from us for sure, but any price is worth paying if it means finding Clay. It’s long past 48 hours and the pessimistic slash close-knowledge-of-the-law side of me knows that his window of survival is slim to none at this point, but Desmond is optimistic, and so is Bill. It's his step-son, after all. But right now, it’s a waiting game.”

"I can imagine," Connor said.

"It was waiting game too, when you were gone," Layla spoke. "You owe Desmond one hell of an explanation.”

“I think I owe everyone in town a written explanation. And I promise you, Lays, you'll get one,” Connor said, before retracting and correcting himself. "An explanation, not an actual written one."

"I'll take both," Layla smiled. “I’ll tell you this, Connor, only because you’re a long time friend and seeing you safe and alive has been fantastic and relieving: the only things that haven’t changed around town are the phone numbers. So if you make some calls, they'll probably pick up. And with Clay missing...it’s got everyone on edge. So don’t be too shocked if I’m the only friendly face you’ll see in town for a while.”

“Thank you, Layla. For the coffee. And for the warning.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Layla said. “Please.”

“I won’t. Not anymore.”

"And if you see Clay...please tell him to come home."

"I promise I will let you know if anything comes up."

"It's good seeing you, Connor."

"You too, Layla. Take care."

Connor waved a final goodbye to Layla as she drove off in her car to Boston.

Once the car was out of sight, he let his hand and smile drop. He took a deep breath and ignored the same ghost dressed in eighteen century clothing staring him down.

And he continued walking to his original destination.

**Author's Note:**

> Some slight exposition, but here we go! The start of something new!
> 
> Thanks for reading: Comments are welcome!


End file.
